


Stuck on Repeat

by Elkian (SuperImposed)



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Child Death, Gen, Happy Ending, Superheroes, Swearing, Time Travel, Unbeta'd, hopefully!, in an angsty way, nongraphic but it is a major element, pacing? where we're going we won't need....pacing, tags updated as i go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperImposed/pseuds/Elkian
Summary: Peter Parker started doing this when he was a kid, and really, he doesn't want anyone else to end up the same way. No matter how many jokes he cracks.





	1. every time i reach the bottom

**Author's Note:**

> I'm jazzed from watching Into the Spider-Verse and got the write juice flowing
> 
> This character was really hard to do anything with because I'm not the best at super-hero-type-plots...
> 
> edit: boy did this thing spiral out of control REAL QUICK

"Where are we going?"

"Basement. The reactor core-"

Spider-man ground to a halt (well, he flipped around until he was back in position, just facing the other way). He held up a finger. "You... are not supposed to be here."

The small - okay, moderately-sized child rolled their eyes and attempted to shoulder past him. "I know," they said, sounding _way_ too tired for someone who hadn't even hit puberty yet. They _thwap_ ped a small hand against his chest. "Neither are you. And I can help. Reactor core?"

\---

"That is not a reactor core," the moderately-sized child who refused to turn back said, which, granted, was a fairly astute observation for a 9-year-old.

"It is not," Spider-man agreed, eyes narrowing behind the mask. He waved a warding hand and a "stay here" at the kid, as if they could follow his acrobatics across the random giant industrial-looking pit. Heck, maybe they could? Don't ask him.

He landed on the main platform with a _thud_. "Now," he said, circling the dormant hulk of machinery at the center, "what... are... you?"

He wished he had more light-

and then every light in the compound snapped on, the progressive florescents coming on in a way straight out of a movie, staggering light across the basement. All of which Spider-man did not pay much attention to, because the machine _beep!_ ed and lit up green at the exact same moment, various parts starting to whir and come apart and rotate-

Spider-man hit the far wall with a bone-shattering _CRASH_ , not that anyone was left to hear it.


	2. something pulls me right back....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WELP I didn't actually intend chapter 1 to post when it did but let's roll with it.  
> This is kind of an OC-Centric fic and I'm not great at plot so forgive me if you were expecting something more... uh... plotty.

"Spider-man!"

The hero _thwip!_ ed out a line and swung back around. He was used to people - villains, co-heroes, co-heroes-turned-villain or thought that _he_ had, adoring public, Jameson - calling his name.

He did _not_ expect it in the middle of the snowy forest on the way to a supervillain lair.

Well, edge of the forest. He could see a line of staggering tracks behind the small figure lurching towards him.

"Uh, hey, kid, take it easy." _Was_ a kid, he was pretty sure. Hopefully not an enemy.

The kid, gasping, ground to a halt. "Wha-" They shoved a stack of papers in his face. "Uh, hi. What is this?"

"Advice." The kid gulped for air. Apparently their approach to winterwear was 'slap a bunch of layers on and pray' and he was starting to get worried. Said child shook the papers - a slapped-together booklet - in his face until he gingerly took it. "Read... it. Pl...ease."

"Hey, breathe. It's gonna be okay-"

Kid shook their head. "Promise you'll read it. Before you go!"

"Spider-man? What's the hold-up?" He glanced back - the kid grabbed his shoulder.

"I'll read it. Go back inside, okay? I'd go with you but-"

"Chemitrax, I know. I'll go," the kid nodded emphatically and looked at him with huge, shining eyes. "Thank you. Be careful, okay?"

"You too. Be safe."

It wasn't until he and the rest of the Avengers - well, the squad of other Avengers, at least - were almost to the hidden door that he realized he hadn't said anything at all about _who_ they were going for.

He turned back, but the kid was gone.

\---

"What is that?"

"Huh? Oh..." Spider-man had forgotten the wad of stapled paper in his hand. He held it up to Thor's curious gaze. "Kid from earlier dropped it off. Seemed important." A pause. "Knew we were looking for Chemitrax, somehow."

"Hmm." Her expression went stern. She held out a hand. "May I? Thank you," she accepted the pamphlet from him. "Best I take it, as I have the most experience with magic... and resistance to poison."

"I really hope that kid was not poisoned. In either sense of the word. What does it say?" Spider-man asked, taking up his swinging lope down the tunnel. Thor followed at a similar pace, even reading.

"....'There is not a reactor core in the basement'," she said, meeting his equally curious look. "Interesting."

"That's certainly a word for it!"

"I'd say it merits looking into, yes?"

### Actions


	3. ...to the top

"Wait." Iron Man held up a hand dramatically, resulting in a group eyeroll-

-until he lifted the kid out from behind the crate.

"Oh, come on!"

"Infrared is the least of what I've got going. Why are you here? Aren't you a little short to be a Storm Trooper?"

The kid gave him a confused, deeply unimpressed look. Hawkeye slapped a hand on his shoulder and cheerfully said, "You're old, man."

He shook her hand off. "Okay, first of all, it's **Iron** Man. Second: You. Small child. Why are you in this dangerous supervillain base?"

The kid crossed their arms, managing to look petulant despite still dangling. "Because _you_ won't listen to me!" they said, sharp. "You always get fooled by the fake reactor core in the basement AND you always get fooled by the fake nu-new-natrizing foam sign in the main lab AND you told Spider-man to look in the basement _after I gave you warnings not to,_ " they snapped, all in one breath, a scowl creasing their entire face.

"Wait, hold on. Basement, reactor core?" Spider-man held up both hands in a placating gesture. The kid looked at him.

"...yeah. There isn't one. There's a- I don't know _what_ it is, some machine. You went over to look at it and it killed us and _none of you believe any of this because it sounds fucking crazy and I know it but-_ "

"Hey!" Spider-man came closer, gesturing for Iron Man to let the kid down. Iron Man gave him an 'are you serious?' look. Spider-man gave **_him_** an 'are _you_ serious?' look, gesturing to the preteen dangling from his fist. Iron Man put the kid down.

The kid was in tears, but not crying, sniffing it back and clearly trying to get a grip on themself. It was impressive and kind of heartbreaking at the same time.

"Okay. You know about the basement. What else do you know?"

They sniffed, then gave him a watery grin, reaching into a jacket pocket and fumbling out a remote that looked absolutely huge in their hands. "I knew where Chemitrax was hiding- hey!"

"Just looking," Iron Man said, distractedly, already scanning the chunk of machinery. Spider-man clearly rolled his eyes, even behind the mask.

"You were saying?"

They looked at him. After a second, their shoulders slumped, way too much tension draining out of them. "The basement is a trap. I don't think there's anything useful down there, but if there is, Chemitrax is ready to- to kill anyone who goes for it."

They looked so sad and so tired and not defeated and Spider-man really didn't want to think about that.

"What of myself?" Thor asked, regaining some attention. She regarded the child carefully. "Does he think to outmatch me?"

The kid pauses, then shakes their head. "N- no. No. You went with Spider-man the second time. I think you lived? 'Cause there was a lot of shaking and stuff like someone was throwing things around after the basement trap went off. But I know it can kill Spider-man. And Iron Man figured out Spider-man could figure out the formula for REAL neu-neur-"

"Neutralizing?"

" _Neutralizing_ foam, yeah, Iron Man said you could do that." The kid rubbed a hand against their chest, over the bright number 9 emblazoned on their inner shirt. It looked handmade.

"Uh-huh. And what did I say after that?" Iron Man was still looking away, reassembling the remote now, but his tone was just a little too nonchalant to be real. Not that the kid knew that.

The kid frowned, twisting their hands in their shirt. They took a deep breath. "Um. Hawkeye's arrow and the new foam were gonna work? I think? But-" their expression soured, shoulders folding in. "But Spider-man was in the basement, so Chemitrax just set off the- the thing."

"Fair's fair, kid, I can't pronounce it either," Hawkeye said cheerfully, dropping to the kid's side. She whipped an acid-headed arrow out of her quiver. "This arrow?"

"Definitely." There was something a little too intense about the word. "I remember a green stripe."

"I don't suppose you remember the chemical formula of Chemitrax's Chemical Thing Of Doom?" Spider-Man asked, half joking, but the kid lit up.

"I saw it written down," they dig in a pocket and pull out a little notebook. "Not all of it, though, but I saw some on the monitor before it got smashed." They start jotting down numbers, tongue sticking out in concentration.

"So, gift horse, mouth, all that good shit, except I have never been satisfied since the day I was born-" "TMI dude" "- _by the bare minimum_ ," Iron Man growls, glaring at Hawkeye, who just puts her hands up and grins at him, "so. Small child. Again. Why are you here. What the hell are you talking about."

"You think the kid's a trap?" Spider-Man asks, incredulous. Iron Man flaps a hand at him.

"Between Skrulls, Loki, and whatever Xavier is getting up to now, let's just say I'm a bit more cautious these days."

The kid rips off the notebook sheet and hands it to Spider-man, then looks up at Iron Man. "I mean...." they hold out their hands, looking a little lost. "That's smart, but I don't have any proof except what's in my head." Their expression turned sour. "And if you're set on not believing that, there's nothing I can do."

"Hm." Thor knelt, one hand on bended knee, and looked at the child. "If you do not mind, I have a way to discern some tricksters. It will not harm you," she assured as the kid looked at her.

The kid paused for a second, then shrugged. "Whatever gives me more... fuck. Veracity?"

"Close enough," Hawkeye agreed, and then Thor laid a hand on each of the kid's shoulders. A brief spark of light flares, then dissipates.

"It is done. The child is no trickster, or at least not one known by Asgard." Thor rises, and gives the kid a reassuring smile.

The kid smiles back. "Thank you. And, uh, my name is Amanda. For what that's worth."


	4. something comes along to intervene

After Iron Man points out that they've been talking for like _twenty minutes_ ("That's rich, coming from you." "Yes, I am rich. Also I fight while talking. Or engineer while talking. Or both. Learn to multitask, kids."), the mini-Avenger squad plus strange knowledgable child sneak - all five of them - into Chemitrax's main lab.

Iron Man says, "We need a distraction," and so Thor body slams Chemitrax through a wall.

("Not what I meant!" "I dunno, _I'd_ be distracted.")

Spider-man jumps onto the computer, Hawkeye whirling arrows in her grip and lining up sightlines. She confides in the kid - Amanda - that she's not as much of a natural at it as her mentor, but she knows she can do it.

("K- Hawkeye, your mentor fought Skrulls with no pants last week, you're doing fine." "Why were the Skrulls pantsless?")

(Something about making the kid break into a laugh unclenches a fist around her heart, maybe.)

"Got it!" Spider-man's a blur of action against a backdrop of action, Chemitrax and Iron Man and Thor duking it out in the inexplicably large workspace.

Amanda pops the lockers open, disabling booby traps they didn't even think to look for, and Spider-man snags bottle after bottle and gets to work.

"You ready for this?" he asks, and Hawkeye throws her head back to laugh, "Who wants to live forever?"

In what feels like no time at all, from the moment they stepped into the lab to now, the tension singing on Hawkeye's bowstring, to the chemical cloud bursting a noxious red-purple into the tank of the Whatever Thingy of Doom. Chemitrax _howls_ , falling to his knees and cursing them. Iron Man slaps thick cuffs (where did those come from?) over his wrists and Thor, a steely glint in her eye, takes charge of him. Spider-man and Hawkeye high-five, then each offer one to the kid, who grins, and high-fives them, looking her age for once.

Then she grabs their hands, just for a second, and says, "It's over."


	5. and i don't know how to stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath
> 
> (apologies to anyone who lives in Vermont.)
> 
> (I didn't intend for this to turn into a Dunkin' Donuts commercial but once I picked a location I had to research or I would die ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ )

They end up in a Dunkin' Donuts.

("What kind of town doesn't have a Starbucks? It's unAmerican!" "We're in _Vermont_ , Stark." "Still!")

Four superheros and an apparent super-child crowd into a booth.

("Aren't your parents going to worry?" "They'll.... understand." "Yeah, now I'm even more concerned.")

Stark cares nothing, apparently, about ordering something absurdly caffeinated for the small child. None of the current crowd can really call him on it (Thor thinks beer is good for a growing girl, Kate's seen Clint drink straight out of the pot, Spider-man is a college student).

"So," Stark says around mouthfuls of pastry. "Now that the chance of most of the east coast getting blown sky-high is... well, probably not ABATED but-" "Stark." He threw his hands in the air, then pointed at the kid. "Talk. Spill. What is your deal. Are you psychic?"

Amanda barks out a high, sharp laugh, smothering it before it can become hysterical.

Once her breathing is under control, she sits up and takes a deep sip of her whipped-cream mocha abomination. "Yeah," the says thickly. "Being psychic sounds really nice."

Thor's eyes narrow. She leans in. "You referenced dying in an event yet to come." She took a thoughtful bite of Boston Kreme, swallowed, continued. "You referred to attempting to convince us prior. And, more to the point," she pointed at the kid with a scrap of pastry, "you seemed fully resigned to be disbelieved. If you are not psychic, then... a time traveler?"

Amanda _gapes_ at her, the table going quiet as the kid searches for words. "No one ever figures it out that fast," she finally says, weakly.

"Not even myself?"

"We haven't really interacted much. Not on this level," the kid admits with a little shrug. She grabs the cup again, toying with the cardboard wrapper and not meeting anyone's eyes. "Yeah," she says, exhaling the word. "I'm a time traveler."

"Ooooo-kay." Stark puts each hand on the table, looking from hero to hero. "Time travel! Great, thanks, I hate it."

" _Tony_ ," Spider-man admonishes.

"You and me both," Amanda mutters, burying herself in her drink again.

The assorted adults glance at her, then at each other.

"Okay, can you maybe explain the time travel thing to me, cause I gotta say, really curious."

Kid takes another sip, then sets the half-empty cup down, finally looking at Hawkeye. "....you know, every time I do this, it ends up getting wiped?" She gives Hawkeye a strained smile. "This is the first time I haven't had to worry about that. It's... nice." 


	6. i know every part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for lots of references to child harm&death and death in general, suicide mentions, and time travel angst :,)

Amanda Dayton had, to the best of her knowledge, been born a time traveler.

She hadn't known it for a long time, though.

Then, one day in third grade - she remembers, because the bus had had a sign in the window marking it for third grader use -the schoolbus had gone out of control, crashed, caught fire, and everyone inside had died.

She hadn't know that til it happened, though.

She just woke up, suddenly, at midnight, _knowing_ something was wrong but not knowing what. Knowing she had to do something... but not knowing what.

Then she'd straggled outside of the crashed bus, one of the few, stared at it, and realized this must have been the bad thing.

They'd... dealt. She'd stared blankly at the walls of the hospital while her parents and teachers talked around and over her. People had said things about accountability, about loss, about bad repair and allocation and all those poor parents, how will they ever recover from such a senseless loss?

She'd gone to bed. Woken up, Listened to more chatter. Didn't know why she was listening.

Everything had been so crystal clear.

The next time she woke up, it was midnight. The day before the crash.

Everyone looked at her like she was crazy, like she'd 'gotten an idea in her head'. Which, anyone who knew her should have known better? Amanda had not, to her knowledge, ever been a particularly creative child.

("You're like 13." "I'm _11._ ~~I think.~~ " "That's WORSE!")

They'd stared even harder when she, out of ideas, had spouted off the very figures they'd said, in the hospital, in whispers, after.... after.

Bus repair specs. The amount of money going to repair and maintenance (not enough). Driver negligence (less than expected, according to the adults).

She didn't know, then, why she remembered. But she had, and her frantic desperation had been enough to give people pause. To get the principal, sighing hard, to pop the bus' hood - and find a mess of burnt wiring inside.

The bus didn't crash. No one died. No one even got fired. And it was over.

Until the next time.

An elevator crash. A volleyball game too close to the creek, swollen with rain; three kids drowned. An electrical fire.

A supervillain attack.

Midnight. Always midnight. Three days, then it reset, three times three days.

("I tried to give myself a superhero name," she tugs out the T-shirt, too thin for the weather, the number '9' emblazoned in bold yellow. She frowns. "'215th Hour' doesn't sound so good, so I was going for '9th Day', but...")  
("Wait, _holy shit_ , _YOU'RE 9th Day!?_ " "You've heard of me...?" "I THOUGHT SHIELD WAS MAKING SHIT UP-")

If she fails, by the end of the 9th Day (the third day, the third time, two-hundred sixteen hours counting down in her backbrain-), if she fails by then... well. She doesn't know.

It's never actually happened. She's never let herself fail.

Because she knows, whatever happens when the loop ends?

It's not something she can handle.

("....are you, like, okay?" "...")  
  
("No.")  
("I'm not.")

* * *

"What else?" Stark's voice startles her back into awareness, fingers clenching convulsively around the second coffee, already almost empty.

She looks down, dowsing the depths of tepid mocha.

"C'mon," he presses, leaning forward, eyes narrowing. Everyone else looks just as serious. "I know that's not the end of it."

She takes a deep breath.

* * *

If she fails, if the disaster goes through, then she resets at the end of the third day.

If....

(A deep, _deep_ breath.)

If she makes it that far.

There's another way to reset. The loop, for her, centers around her, after all.

~~No one else remembers, no one else knows, everything's back to the start-~~

So the other way to reset

is for her to die.

(Thor's hand tight on Stark's wrist, silencing him; Hawkeye and what can be seen of Spidey go pale-)

(She doesn't have all that many scars; unsuccessful loops get rewritten, after all.)

(They don't ask, if she ever does manual resets. She doesn't volunteer the information.)


	7. and i just can't seem to break free

The table is quiet, for a bit.

Not very long, with a Hawkeye and a Spider-man and Tony Stark sitting at it, but. It's the thought that counts?

"I remember everything that happens in a loop. Every loop. Every iteration," Amanda says, pulling the cup up for a long, long sip.

The empty cardboard hits the table, the little _clank_ like a gavel.

"...there's a... tradeoff. Maybe because the iterations are time I'm not supposed to have." Her eyes are shadowed, face far too old for someone who might be a middle schooler, at best. "I... start to forget, things that happen outside of the loops. It's slow - or, I dunno, maybe I didn't notice at first? But," she bites her lip, looking up at the adults, the tears she was fighting in Chamitrax's base returning. "I'm... losing time. I don't remember how old I am. I don't remember a lot of things."

"Jesus, kid."

"...what about your parents?" Spidey hunches when their accusing gazes fall on him. "What? Someone had to ask. Your guardians or-"

"I told my parents." Amanda's fingers tap against the empty cup. "I don't know what they think, what they believe. They're... worried for me." She picks it up, remembers it's empty, and sets it back down with a little scowl. "Believed me enough to move out here, out to the middle of nowhere, Vermont."

"..did that help?"

"...there's less problems. Less emergencies, less supervillains." She scowls again, at them, accusing. " _Usually._ "

"...our bad." "Nope, I'm not taking responsiblity for that assh-OH." Stark grunted as Thor elbowed him, armor or no armor.

Amanda rolls her eyes. "So, yeah, moving to a place where less iterations, or activations, or whatever can be triggered, really helped." Her eyes suddenly go wide, hands slapping on the table as she jumps to her feet (not much affecting her relative height). "Shit!"

"Language?" "You _just_ noticed?" "It's been busy, fight me."

"You believing me is _worse_ ," she says, slapping hands over her mouth, face a picture of horror.

"What? How is-"

"If we believe thee, then you may call upon us for help. Thus, the number of events you may make a difference in will increase." Thor's tone was deliberate, not questioning, and the kid was nodding so fast her head was blurring.

"...well, shit."

\---

"I have an idea."


	8. it's the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

"You have my gratitude, Mother."

Frigga smiled at her sometimes-son, sometimes-daughter, always her child. "It is little trouble," the All-Mother said, eyes tracking back to the preteen.

"How has... everyone been?"

"Her parents will adapt, or not," Frigga said, steely but not unkind. "They are willing, if weak." She gestures to where Amanda sits, reading out of a huge tome on magical theory. "The child is a hard worker, at times. It has been an interesting trial, convincing her to relax."

Thor nodded, relief evident on her face. "And her powers..."

"No sign yet." Frigga smiled, gently, and laid a hand on Thor's shoulder. "It was a good idea, child of mine. Her powers may yet control her, but you have removed her from the environment that was hurting her."

"I am also pleased to hear Asgard does not require a small Midgardian youth to cure our ills," Thor adds, mock-stern, and Frigga laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "oh," i say, "into the spiderverse was so cool! i want to do something with the character i've hard been able to use bc superheroes!" i say, "i'll just scratch off a quick itsv fic!" i say  
> itsv didn't even feature. this was supposed to be _three chapters_. halp.
> 
> ~~(the chapter titles are like that deliberately and it actually took a lot of consideration to decide because again THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE. 3. CHAPTERS.)~~


End file.
